


Symptoms of the Culture

by leere



Series: Pixelated Dreams [1]
Category: Skinjacker - Neal Shusterman
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Coming Out, Confessions, Ecto-ripping, Fluff, Gen, Ghost Kids Being Dorks, Ghosts, Headcanon, Internalized Homophobia, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-08 20:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11653899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leere/pseuds/leere
Summary: A tutoring session takes an unexpected turn.





	Symptoms of the Culture

**Author's Note:**

> So after rereading the series for the first time in six years, naturally I had to headcanon at least two of my favorite dead kids as gay, and I went with Big Hands McGee and Confederate Mulan. I love these two a lot, and I especially love their dynamic, which was severely under-utilized in the canon material, so I wanted to write a little somethin' about them. This fits right into the second book, by the way.
> 
> This happens to be my favorite thing I've ever written, and just my luck, I wrote it for a nonexistent fandom. I honestly doubt anyone will read this, but if you do, hope you enjoy, 'cause I'm extremely proud of it.
> 
> Title from Sit Next to Me by Foster the People.

By taking on the task of attempting to teach Ms. Zinnia the Ripper how to read and write, Johnnie-O had unknowingly condemned himself to a fairly hellish fate. Though Johnnie had a will as iron as his over-sized fists, Zin was in every way his equal, and the results of their constant clashing were often fairly disastrous.

Currently, Johnnie-O was ducking the magazines and children's books Zin was hurling at him and hollering, "Knock it the hell off, would ya? Just like a woman to start throwin' stuff before givin' a man a chance to explain hisself!"

"You ain't no man!" Zin shrieked, starting to throw furniture once she'd run out of reading materials. " _I'm_ more man than you, an' I jus' look the part! You ain't nothin' but a dead lil' boy wit' big 'ands!"

"And you're just a dead little girl dressed up like a dead little boy! You ain't in no position to start talkin' that mess to me!"

Zin bared her teeth and hurled a lamp, but Johnnie-O ducked and growled right back at her. The lamp fell with a clatter, the bulb perpetually lit, even though it wasn't plugged in, casting a bright yellow glow on the ground and their feet, and leaving the top halves of their bodies shrouded in relative darkness.

In the faint light, they stared each other down for a long few minutes, both of them equally unwilling to look away first. 

Finally, Zin huffed and looked down at her boot-clad feet. Johnnie-O smiled to himself, proud of his small victory.

Zin crossed her arms over her chest. "Yer a real stubborn basterd, ya know dat, Big Hands?"

"And you're not?" He leaned down to pick up the lamp she'd thrown and set it back up on the table it'd been on, so it once again dimly lit up the whole train car.

Zin grinned. "It's one a' my finest qualities, as a matter a' fact." She sat down on the ground suddenly, cross-legged, even though there was several much more comfortable chairs all around her. "Hey, I think dat's enough a' dat lesson. The letters hurt my eyes. Get all mixed up, like a puzzle or somethin'. How's about me an' you jus' talk some? Jus' conversate a lil'. Been a real long time since I done any casual conversatin'."

"You and I," Johnnie-O corrected, looking a little forlornly at his favorite recliner, before sitting down next to her. "And who says I wanna conversate with you? Conversate ain't even a word, you know."

"Word or not, it don't matter," Zin huffed, shooting him a glare. She looked away and pursed her lips. "Well, lissen. Remember how you was tellin' me 'bout how you was real fond a' history back in fleshie school? Well, I fought in a real live histor'cal war, yanno. Maybe we could talks about dat."

"It's 'that', not 'dat'," Johnnie-O started to correct her automatically, after mentally translating her thick and foreign Southern accent into common speak like he had to do every time she spoke, but then he actually comprehended her words. He would've flushed if he was able to, angry at himself for casually and stupidly mentioning something that could hurt his reputation as a tough guy; the fact that he'd actually paid attention in school, and not just bullied kids and took their lunch money. Sure, he'd done plenty of that, too, but he had admittedly enjoyed his time in the classroom far more than someone who presented himself as a thug should've. Except, of course, for when they learned arithmetic. He hated arithmetic.

He told Zin this, and she said, "Ain't that when yer bones get all stiff? My grandpa had dat arithmetic, I think."

Johnnie laughed because he thought she was joking. A look at her face told him she wasn't, but that only made him laugh harder.

"Why you laughin' at me?" Zin demanded, voice rising shrilly. She hated being laughed at. "I'll rip yer goddamn mouth off if ya don' stop dat right now!"

But Johnnie-O kept laughing, immune to her threats by now. Not one for bluffing, Zin did in fact rip the memory of his lips off, but Johnnie didn't stop, didn't even flinch, and his laughter now looked freakishly nightmarish with his lips missing.

Zin scowled and put them back, since the removal of his lips had punished her more than him. Resigned, she slugged him in the arm as hard as she could, wishing he could feel it. "Yer a real jackass, Big Hands. Ya know that?"

Johnnie-O kept laughing. If he was human, he'd be red-faced and spluttering by now, but unfortunately for Zin, as an Afterlight, he could laugh nonstop for centuries if he wanted to.

Fortunately, he finally stopped after a good twenty minutes and wiped non-existent tears from his eyes. He'd sagged into a laying position at some point, and now grinned up at the ceiling. "I ain't laughed that hard in decades. Thanks for that, Zin."

"I ain't said nothin' funny," Zin grumbled, still glaring at him.

His smile lingered for a moment, before it faded from his lips and he took on a more serious look, staring up at the ceiling with his brows furrowed, as if he was trying to figure something out. Curious, despite herself, of what he was thinking about, Zin watched him quietly and waited for him to speak.

Johnnie-O finally did. "Y'know, it's interestin'," he began slowly. "For all these years I didn't like girls too much, in life and in death. Hated 'em, actually. But they're really not as bad as I thought. I mean, in the last few months I've met annoying gals, but I've also met real decent gals. Assuming all girls were useless was real close-minded of me. I suppose I still prefer guys, 'cause they're easier to understand, I guess. They're simple. I don't like things I don't understand. But girls ain't all bad." Thoughtfully, to himself, like a realization, he repeats, "Nah, they ain't all bad."

"Huh," Zin replied simply. She laid down beside him, staring up at the boring ceiling of the train car Nick's henchmen - namely Zin and Johnnie, since Charlie stayed in the locomotive cab at all times - had claimed as their own, and fought over since. Feeling like Johnnie's contemplative state might provide her some entertainment, she turned on her side, propped herself up on one elbow, and asked, "So, do ya _like_ any girls, Big Hands? Really like, I mean?"

Johnnie-O snorted. "Nuh uh. You know, Allie the Outcast once told me I'm always gonna be at the age just before I'd start noticing pretty girls. An' she's right. But I don't mind. If anything, I think it's a good thing. I mean, look where likin' a gal got Nick."

Zin shook her head. "Yer right 'bout Nick, but the age thing's jus' an excuse. I know lots a' boys younger than you who like girls plenty. Age ain't no kinda excuse."

Johnnie glared at her; a warning. "Pretty girls just ain't a concern of mine. I don't care for 'em. Ya understand?"

Zin rolled her eyes at his rather hostile tone. "I guess."

Johnnie licked his lips, feeling nervous for a reason he didn't want to think about. "I mean, I still notice a gal when she's real pretty, but I'm never interested in them, okay? If that makes sense."

Taking note of his anxious tone, as evidenced by his rambling, she decided to screw with him a little. 

Uncharacteristically playful, Zin leaned into him. "Do you think I'm pretty?" she teased.

Johnnie-O wrinkled his nose. "No! You look like a guy anyhow."

"Thought you liked guys," Zin responded, a little bitterly. When she saw the horror on Johnnie's face, she added, "More than girls, anyway."

A little too defensive, Johnnie snapped, "No! What the hell makes you say that?"

Zin gaped, realization dawning on her. She sat up all the way. "Oh, yer one of _them_ , ain't ya?"

Johnnie-O's expression went from confused to indignant to murderous. He sat upright as well. "No! Goddamnit, woman, why you gotta be makin' assumptions like that? I've been thirteen for seventy-five years, alright, I ain't never liked nobody in that way, and I never will!"

Zin stared at him. He glowered back.

Then she looked at the ground, brows furrowed, like she was conflicted about something. When she spoke, her voice was small and unsure; the exact opposite of her usual voice. "Y'know, I, uh. I liked a girl once."

It was Johnnie's turn to gape, all the anger leaving his face.

"She was real pretty," Zin went on, eyes still fixed on the ground. She started absently picking at an immortalized lose string on her pants. "Couple years older than me. All the boys was in love wit' her. She musta had hundreds a' suitors. They all wanted t' marry her, yanno. An' she had the prettiest blonde hair, all curly down her back, an' a face like an angel. Like God almighty sculpted her Hisself." She stopped talking for a moment, eyes far-off, a small smile on her face. Then the smile disappeared, and her tone went from reminiscent and warm to quiet and sad. "The day I went off to the war, I went ta visit her. Went ta her front door an' asked her mama if I could see her. I was gon' tell her. That I loved her an' all. I s'pose I figured I had nothin' ta lose. She'd prob'ly think I was jus' some boy anyhow, 'cause I was in my get up." She gestured to outfit, then fell silent.

"What'd she say?" Johnnie-O prompted gently.

Zin smiled sadly. "She wasn't home. An' I had ta go."

"Oh," Johnnie said, frowning.

Zin looked up at him. "I watched her fer a while, yanno, after I died an' all. Watched her grow up an' have chil'ren an' marry - not jus' once, but fo' times. Had a whole bunch a' kids wit' all them men. One ended up bein' in them black an' white picture shows, dat's right.

"She lived 'til she was real old. I know 'cause I checked on her a lot. Worried 'bout her, yanno. But I ain't have ta worry. She had a real full, what's the word, uh, fulfillin' life. Lived 'till she was old an' ready." She smiled barely. "I went to the funeral. Ripped some whiskey an' cake fer myself an' sat through the services. I 'member, her coffin was open, an' I looked inside. An' she still looked jus' as beautiful. All wrinkly an' old, 'a course, but still beautiful." She closed her eyes tightly. She sounded choked up. It was the most emotion Johnnie had ever seen her show. "Sometimes I wonder, maybe, jus' maybe, if I'd a' lived? Maybe me an' her coulda been together. Not married or nothin', 'course, but jus' livin' together. Sometimes I swear I coulda grown old wit' her. Even if I never once got to kiss her or nothin' like that, long as I got to grow old wit' her, I think I coulda died happy. Jus' as long as I coulda been near her."

She fell silent then and sat there, wordlessly, looking distant and sad. Johnnie was watching her silently; critically. Finally, he sighed and put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him.

He wouldn't make eye contact, but that didn't change how powerful his confession was, regardless of how quietly he said it. "Kid who worked at the candy shop. Must've been seventeen, maybe eighteen. Real nice smile." He got real quiet, eyes distant, before they locked on Zin's again, full of fire. "You know, it ain't considered a crime no more, an' only some people consider it to be immoral. I see fleshie boys holdin' hands all the time, and girls kissin' and stuff. We was just born at the wrong time."

Zin studied him carefully. She rubbed what was probably imaged wetness from her eyes, and cleared her throat. "You, uh-" She wet her lips. "You ever kiss anyone before?"

Johnnie-O's excitement and passion faded into disgust, and he shot her a glare. "No, and I sure as hell don't want no kisses from the likes a' you!"

"I ain't offerin', I was jus' askin'!" Zin yelled back. She crossed her arms. "Ya don't gotta yell at me. I just thought - I just _thought_. 'Cause, yanno, I ain't girly, I guess."

"Yeah, neither am I. What're you tryna say?" Johnnie visibly bristled at what he thought Zin was insinuating, over-sized hands curling into fists.

Zin eyed his hands and put her own up defensively. "Nothin'! Sheesh. Didn't mean it like that."

 They sat in heated silence for a long moment, the tender moment they'd shared moments before ruined completely. Eventually, Johnnie scowled. "You can't tell nobody, ya understand?"

"Yeah, yeah," Zin rolled her eyes, playing with the brim of her hat. Oh, how she longed to take it off.

Johnnie-O pointed a huge finger at her. "I ain't playin' games, Zinnia! Nobody needs to know stuff like that, you hear?"

"I ain't gonna tell nobody!" Zin snapped. Then she sighed, and her tensed shoulders relaxed. "But it jus' don't make sense to me to keep it under wraps. You took that secret to yer grave, so why hold onto it in the afterlife? Yer everlastin' soul is sufferin', all because yer holdin' stuff in, and if ya ask me, that's kinda sad, an' kinda stupid."

"Well, I didn't ask you," Johnnie snapped at her. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "You don't understand. It's different for me. I mean, look at me."

Zin looked him up and down, then raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

Johnnie scowled. "I ain't you, ya know? You pass as a boy, so chances are nobody would notice or care if you started mackin' on other dead girls. Me? I got a reputation, alright? People respect me. But ya can't expect nobody to respect a queer. Even a dead one." He curled in a little on himself as he said this. "Just a fact of life."

"But this ain't life," Zin replied, reaching out and laying a tentative hand on his back. "This is the afterlife. The rules of the livin' don't apply here. You can do whatever the hell ya want! Ya don't gotta hide it! You can be proud!" 

Johnnie-O shook his head. Then he glanced up at her, eyes a little watery. "You're tellin' me you're proud of not bein' normal? I know you probably don't remember your parents, 'cause neither do I, but I remember enough that I know they'd be pretty upset if - if they knew." 

"Didn't ya jus' tell me it's normal now'days, jus' a couple minutes back?" She raised an eyebrow. " _You_ told me that. Personally, I s'pose I jus' don' see no harm in likin' girls. I kept it a secret when I was alive, but now, I jus' don't see no point. Why bother hidin' it when no one cares? Everlost is filled with kids, and kids ain't the judgmental type, ya know? 'Sides, even if they did care, what could they do to us besides spread rumors? Nothin'."

Johnnie scoffed. "Why're we even discussin' this? Ain't like it even matters."

"'Course it matters. Ain't ya like anyone?"

Johnnie sighed and looked out the window of the train car. The sky was still dark. "We've been over this. I don't like no one. Even if I did, what could I do? I wouldn't even know how to, y'know. Go about anythin'."

"Compliment his hair," Zin said instantly.

"Huh?"

"If you like a boy, ya gotta say somethin' nice 'bout his hair," Zin pointed to her own hat-covered head. "Guys pride themselves on their hair. You tell 'em it looks nice, they get all smiley."

To Zin's delight, Johnnie actually blushed. Afterlight's rarely blushed, since they were physically unable to, and in order to do it, they needed to be embarrassed so badly that they remembered what it felt like to blush as a human. Successfully making someone blush, especially someone who'd been in Everlost for a long time, was a true feat indeed. But Johnnie-O, for all his seventy-five years in Everlost, was undeniably red in the face. "Don't phrase it like that!" he barked. "Jesus H. Christ." 

Zin smiled smugly. "Like what?"

Johnnie's red blush faded to pink. He looked down. "'If you like a boy,'" he mumbled. "I don't like that."

"Uh-huh, wha'ever. Did ya hear me? Hair."

"Yeah. Hair." Johnnie rolled his eyes. "Why are you givin' me flirtin' advice when I've never seen you complimentin' nobody?"

"I guess 'cause nobody's ever deserves to be complimented by me. I got high standards, yanno?"

Johnnie snorted. "Yeah. Figures."

"Really, though. Keep that in mind. Hair."

Johnnie laughed weakly. He felt lighter, somehow. "Yeah. Hair."

She smiled at him, and he smiled back.


End file.
